


My World In A Room

by Goldberry



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Gentle Kissing, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Conditions, Possessive Behavior, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldberry/pseuds/Goldberry
Summary: Eddie and Buck interrupt a robbery in progress.





	My World In A Room

**Author's Note:**

> Gratuitous hurt/comfort because I'm weak.

The sight of Buck on his knees, his head forced to the side by a hand in his hair so a gun could be put to his temple is a sight that will haunt Eddie for the rest of his days. He goes cold in that moment, his breath stolen, and he has to mentally remind himself that he’s not in Afghanistan and this isn’t a battlefield. It’s the middle of the afternoon in the lobby of a bank and they had just come in to use the ATM. They’d just been arguing about what to have for lunch, for Christ’s sake ― Eddie had voted for tacos. 

Eddie raises his hands slowly, palms out. The gunman is shouting at him, at everyone, but there’s a white roar in Eddie’s ears, the sound of the sea in a seashell. He can’t focus on anything except the tense line of Buck’s shoulders and the wide, shocked blue of his eyes. A line of blood is dripping from his hairline down the side of his face from where he’d been pistol-whipped with a semi-automatic..

“Get _ the fuck _ on the floor or boy toy here gets a bullet.”

The words penetrate the noise in Eddie’s head, mostly because the muzzle of the gun presses hard against Buck, who flinches. 

Eddie’s knees hit the lobby tiles and he’s down on his stomach, hands out, breathing like he just ran a marathon. “No one needs to get hurt here, man,” he bites out. It’s a miracle his voice is steady, as cold as his heart feels. It’s Eddie-the-soldier’s voice. 

“If _ anyone _ moves, we’re gonna have a problem,” the gunman shouts. He’s mid-forties maybe, in dark jeans and a black jacket, fairly fit as he has no problem jerking Buck to his feet, gun still pressed to his head. Eddie’s whole body tenses as Buck is forced around the back of the cashier’s desk, the gunman ordering the clerks to empty their tills. Eddie has to turn his head slightly to see what’s happening but from his low vantage point it’s hard to keep track of Buck. The cashiers are filling a large duffel bag with cash, staying quiet but obviously frightened. There are six other civilians in the lobby, all face down on the floor, including a young woman with a seven or eight year old girl tucked against her side. The child’s eyes are huge in her small face, her mother’s hand covering her mouth as she whispers to her. Eddie can’t see any security guards and wonders if they are hiding, waiting for the right moment. The idea makes him nervous with Buck’s life in the balance and, for the first time in a long time, he wishes he were armed. 

The gunman makes a sharp movement with his rifle. “Pick it up,” he orders Buck. Buck leans down slowly and pulls the strap of the now loaded duffle over his shoulder. Still pointing the gun at him, the robber puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder to manhandle him out from behind the tellers’ desk. Buck goes without resistance, hands up. 

From outside comes the faint sound of police sirens. 

The gunman tenses and whips the gun around, still holding on to Buck as he threatens the people in the lobby. “Alright, who called the cops. _ Who did it? _” 

The gun points at each of them in turn but when it gets to the woman and her child, the young girl whimpers and bursts into tears and Eddie knows what’s going to happen almost before it does. Buck, who has a giant soft spot for kids, decides he’s had enough. With the gun no longer pointed directly at him, he turns quickly and puts his shoulder into the gunman’s stomach, winding him and tackling him to the floor. The two are immediately locked in a battle for the gun and Eddie lurches to his feet. 

“Everyone run, get out of here!” 

Tellers are streaming past him, one of them screaming as the gun discharges. Eddie flinches and turns, heart in his throat, to find Buck on top of the gunman using every bit of his strength to press the rifle into the ground. The gunman’s hand is on the trigger though and he fires several more shots into a nearby desk. 

“Eddie!” Buck’s shouting for him and he bursts into motion. He’s literally only two feet away when the gunman somehow gets his other hand free and slugs Buck across the face. Buck falls back, losing his grip on the gun, and the robber immediately has it pointed right at him. He pulls the trigger. 

Buck hits the tiled lobby floor, blood immediately drenching the shoulder of his shirt and Eddie loses it. 

He slams into the gunman from the side and stomps on the man’s wrist with a booted foot, feeling the crunch under his heel. The gunman screams and releases the weapon which Eddie kicks to the side and then he’s on top of the guy, laying him out with a punch to his face, instantly breaking his nose. And Eddie doesn’t stop there. He keeps punching even when the other man is clearly unconscious and is no longer a threat. He’s no longer in control, his mind a never-ending scream of Buck’s name.

But eventually, hours later, or maybe only minutes, he hears Buck’s voice. He’s just calling his name over and over, his voice hitching as if he can’t catch his breath. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…”

Eddie breathes out shakily and looks over. Buck’s on his back, one hand outstretched towards him, pale but alive. 

It’s enough. More than enough.

Eddie moves over to him, bunching up Buck’s shirt to press down hard on the bullet wound in Buck’s shoulder. Buck groans at the pressure but allows Eddie to move his arm, lifting him slightly to see if there’s an exit wound. 

“Through and through,” he says, unable to allow himself to feel any relief. Buck’s still on blood thinners and there’s a lot of blood. It pools dark against the pristine tiles. “You’re gonna be okay, Buck.” He looks up, gauging how far away the police are. The sirens are very loud now. 

“Lunch is on you today,” Buck jokes weakly, white-faced. His pupils are blown wide and they’re not tracking right. Eddie puts his free hand against Buck’s face, thumb brushing over his jaw line. 

“Buck, hey…” Buck’s eyes are fluttering closed. Eddie curses in spanish. “_ Evan… _” Blue eyes catch his and Eddie holds him there with what feels like pure force of will. “Stay with me, okay? You gotta stay awake. Help is coming.” He can hear voices outside but he doesn’t look up. He’s not moving from Buck’s side unless they drag him away, and maybe not even then. 

“Eddie?!”

It’s Athena. She’s striding across the lobby, a team of other officers and paramedics behind her. It’s like watching salvation descend and Eddie feels such relief at her presence that he trembles. 

“Athena,” his voice cracks oddly and he swallows. “It’s Buck.” 

Athena takes in the scene in seconds and starts barking orders immediately. Hands replace Eddie’s against Buck’s shoulder and he’s shuffled momentarily aside as the ambulance crew get Buck on a gurney. Others are checking on the gunman and securing the scene. Athena takes a long look at Eddie’s raw, bloody knuckles and lifts a perfect eyebrow. 

Eddie tilts his chin up and meets her gaze squarely. “He shot Buck.”

Athena nods slowly after a long moment and places a hand on his forearm briefly. “Go with him, Eddie. We’ll talk later.” She gives him a brief squeeze and then releases him. He trots to keep up with the medics who are wheeling Buck out to the ambulance and climbs inside after him, reaching over to grip Buck’s hand. Buck’s fingers are weak in his but he holds on anyway, updating the medics on his medications, his medical history. 

Buck spends two days in the hospital and then Eddie’s allowed to take him home, tuck him in bed and crawl in after him. He lays over Buck on his forearms, careful not to press against his wounded side, and brushes kisses up his neck and across his cheekbone. Buck hums a little, low in his throat. He’s weary and he smells like antiseptic and he’s pliant in Eddie’s hands, trusting Eddie to take care of him. 

Eddie has never loved him more. 

He tells Buck as much, a whisper against the shell of his ear in the darkness of their bedroom. Buck’s eyes are silver in the moonlight but his smile is golden. It thaws the last of the tension from Eddie’s body like a shot of pure sunshine. 

A moment later he hears the clack of Christopher’s crutches and turns over on his side, smiling softly as his son pushes into the bedroom. 

“Dad?” Chris is whispering, “Is Buck okay?”

“He’s okay, buddy,” he replies, holding out a hand. “Want to see him?”

Christopher makes his way over and Eddie lifts him onto the bed, setting aside his crutches. 

“Bucky?” His son’s voice is so sweet and gentle, his small hand reaching over to trace the skin above Buck’s eye. Buck lifts a hand to cup Christopher’s cheek. 

“Hey, there’s my little man.” Christopher leans all the way down, tucking himself into Buck’s right side. Buck’s arm presses him close and he lays a kiss to Chris’ forehead. “Just what I needed,” Buck murmurs, meeting Eddie’s eyes in the dark. 

Eddie lays down and curls around his family, his back to the door like a wall against the outside world. Everything he needs is right there with him. 

**END.**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
